I didn’t know anything about Cal Worthington other than what I learned from watching a ton of late night TV in the 1980s.

And, I learned a lot.

For example I knew that if I needed or wanted a “brand new car” I could “go see Cal.”

I also knew that in Cal’s world if I got a “new car for my wife” she would “love me all my life.”

Cal told me if I “was short of cash, he’ll have payments all arranged and “10-day new exchange.” Whatever the hell that meant.

At first, I figured he was some kind of personable hillbilly who knew exactly what it took to get you in the door and out with a new car; a slick sort of huckster like Mr. Haney on “Green Acres.” After all, they had the same backwoods twang.

But where Mr. Haney was a stereotype of a real snake-oil selling, carpetbagging Southern sleaze, Cal Worthington was anything but.

In fact, it can be argued in hindsight, ol’ Cal was a genius and certainly way ahead of his time. Here was a guy who understood his TV appeal, the power of his jingle, his brand and his audience. I challenge you to find a Southern California car dealer as successful as Cal.

Chalk it up to his TV advertising campaign. It looked hokey, but it was pure showmanship. And, let me tell you if I may, the sight of a guy on TV wrestling a bear, coddling a chimp or being towed in a mini-Model-T by an ox undoubtedly got attention from plenty of the bong-hit addled, long-haired freaks of the era.

Which is why Cal Worthington was a staple of late ’70s and mid-’80s late night TV. He sandwiched his pitches among KTLA’s “Twilight Zone” or “Star Trek”; as lengthy breaks during KHJ’s never-ending stream of horribly dubbed kung fu classics; and in between black-an-white episodes of “Perry Mason” and rants from Wally George on KDOC.

In retrospect, I guess Cal was really targeting the swing-shift employees on the line in the Southland’s then-booming aerospace and manufacturing industries. Paychecks were good then. Good and steady. But no matter where you worked, you needed a car to get there. And, what better place to be for that blue-collar audience to pick up a vehicle than Long Beach?

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I loved the way the cars would roll past on screen with big numbers on their windows and fake license plates as Cal would describe them and their price.

A lot of times, I would say to myself, “hmm ... you know what? I could probably afford that.”

I guess wasn’t alone.

In 1988, according to a 1990 Sacramento Bee article, ol’ downhome Cal grossed in excess of $300 million and was spending nearly $15 million a year on TV commercials. That same article contained plenty of facts about Cal Worthington that I never knew until Monday.

• After the war he couldn’t get a commercial pilot’s gig, so he began selling cars in Corpus Christi, Texas;

• His first SoCal dealership was in Huntington Park, where Wikipedia notes he sold Hudsons.

I guess that explains the commercial where he was flying a biplane.

But, again that’s the stuff I never knew.

What I most remember was that Cal loved animals, especially his “dog Spot.”

It never mattered to me that Spot was sometimes an elephant, sometimes a chimp, sometimes a reindeer. Cal would stand on his head to sell me a car. Beyond that, I knew how to find him if I ever wanted that $600 Delta 88.

“Worthington Ford in Long Beach

Worthington Ford in Long Beach

San Diego Freeway and Bellflower Boulevard.”

Frank Girardot is the editor of the Pasadena Star-News. Follow him at Twitter.com/FrankGirardot Send email to frank.girardot@sgvn.com